by Abe Kobo
But Kyūzō was unlucky. At exactly the same time he finished climbing the stairs, the door opened and the captain appeared. Kyūzō tried to go back but Ōkane was climbing the stairs from below. There was no time to hesitate. With his head bowed, Kyūzō lunged forward.
He was just a moment too late, however. At the instant he launched himself forward, the ship listed, pulling him back. As the captain dodged out of the way, Kyūzō tripped and stumbled into the room. In front of him sat the doctor, facing him. Turning around, Kyūzō saw that the captain and Ōkane stood alongside each other blocking his path from behind. He suddenly rushed to the bed on the left, pushed aside the blanket cover, and began randomly groping about.
“What the hell are you doing?” exclaimed the captain, throwing himself upon Kyūzō. Ōkane then grabbed his leg, dragging him down. The doctor merely gazed at them in silence.
“Give it back! Half is mine!” No, I guess it wasn’t half, he admitted to himself. But half wouldn’t be bad. I’ve got a right to that much. Really, I’ve got a right to all of it!
“I said give it back! Kō and I have an agreement!”
“Idiot!” said the captain, grabbing Kyūzō by his growing hair and rubbing his face on the floor.
“That’s no thing for a child to have,” added the doctor in a blank voice.
“But half of it’s mine. It would be too hard for me to arrive in Japan penniless.”
“What the hell are you talking about? We’ve already arrived. This right here is officially Japan!” laughed Ōkane.
“No, I mean the land!”
“Don’t worry,” shrieked the captain. “In any case, you needn’t fear that we’ll let you off the ship.”
“Really, you might be better off here than going ashore and becoming an urchin,” muttered the doctor as if remembering.
“That’s why I’m asking you to give it back to me!”
“You won’t need it if you’re not going ashore,” said the captain, baring his teeth.
“But that’s not what you promised!”
“Promise?” Ōkane replied, playing innocent. “I don’t remember making such a promise. Besides, this right here is officially Japan.”
“Oh, and even the sea below is Japan.”
Kyūzō stopped going against them. The stuff was no longer important. In any case, he had to somehow think of a way to escape. He gingerly rose to his feet, rubbing his body.
“Hey, it’s time to head to the bridge,” said the captain. “We have to put this boy to sleep somewhere. Does that room have a lock on the outside?”
“It will if we put one there,” answered Ōkane, rubbing his face.
The ship again listed heavily. The momentum caused the door to open of itself. Kyūzō suddenly made a dash for it. In the next instant, however, he found his body afloat. The doctor had grabbed his wrist, twisting him up. Still twisting him, the doctor handed Kyūzō over to the captain. The captain, in turn, handed him to Ōkane. “What a stupid boy! I’ll take this back,” remarked Ōkane pitifully as he took the harmonica from Kyūzō’s pocket.
With his wrist still twisted up, Kyūzō was brought back along the path from where he had just come. From the stairs to the passageway, then from the passageway to the engine room. As a young sailor helped him, the chief engineer smiled cynically at Kyūzō while shouting in amusement. “I’ll give you lots of attention once you safely get out!” From the engine room to the side opening, then from the side opening to the gap with the oxide-red walls.
One part of the handcuffs was removed from the iron plate and placed around Kyūzō’s ankle. He and Kō were now bound together by a single handcuff. The chief engineer shouted something. The door of the side opening was closed and locked from the outside.
Screaming, Kyūzō crawled toward the side opening. Kō angrily tried to push him aside. In the small room their legs became entangled, and each movement caused the ring of the handcuffs to clamp down even more tightly. Kyūzō finally gave up and grew quiet.
Kō still showed no sign of emotion. Kyūzō clenched his teeth and tightly shut his eyes, trying to think and feel nothing. The more he tried, however, the more his eyes opened and his mouth sagged. This can’t be true, he thought. They have to be playing a prank. Making a joke for their own amusement … Without realizing it, he began to cry.
He awoke to the changing sound of the engine. It seemed that he had fallen asleep at some point. It had become completely quiet. The sound of the winch echoed from the deck. Does that mean we’re now in port? If that’s true, Kyūzō thought in spite of himself, then this stupid situation can’t be real … As if remembering, he began screaming again. He soon tried to stand up but was promptly yanked back by Kō. “Hey, I’m Kuki. I’m really Kuki. Kuki Kyūzō.” Suddenly a sound echoed forth—inconspicuous, dull, large, and penetrating. It was the quay! “I’m Kuki. Kuki Kyūzō. No mistake …”
“Mr. Kō!” Kyūzō grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him. “We’ve arrived! We’ve arrived in Japan!”
Another, even larger sound echoed forth heavily. Rattling the handcuffs, Kō abruptly stood up. Peering at the middle of the wall as if looking right through it, he exclaimed, “What? Could that be the sound of a cannon?” “I said that we’ve arrived in Japan!” “No, it’s a cannon. I guess the war has begun. Like I said, America and the Soviet Union have begun fighting. Ha-ha! My name is Kuki Kyūzō. Actually, let me tell you … Actually, I’m the chief president. Understand? I’m president of the government in exile.”
There was repeated several times a dull echo like a tree being cut down. That had to be the sound of the hatch being removed. “It’s war!” Kō yelled out, clinging to the wall. Ignoring the twisting in his ankle, Kyūzō grasped the wall of the ship’s side with both arms, drawing his cheek close to it and pressing his chest against it. Damn it! Japan is just a few centimeters on the other side!
“Speaking of Kuki Kyūzō, I’m rather well known,” Kō continued, banging his forehead hard against the iron plate. Suddenly he began singing, “Young lady!” “Idiot!” snapped Kyūzō, instinctively hitting him before sitting down exhausted on the ship bottom. “All right. So war is like weeds, and all you need is the right land for many to grow. I suppose that there’s land suited to war. I guess it’s a man’s purpose in life … Lieutenant Yoshino was a man …”
Kyūzō caressed the gritty, red iron plate. Damn it, those bastards! To think that Japan is just on the other side! Still, did I really want to come here? I wonder if I didn’t want to go somewhere else. What’s worse, I’m still together with Kō! Perhaps it’s all been just a dream. Maybe I’m still sleeping out in the wasteland somewhere, about to get frostbite …
Someone passed above deck dragging something heavy.
“It’s war!” Kō shouted, his voice twitching.
Damn it, it seems that I’ve just been circling around the same place. No matter how far I go, I can’t take a single step out of the wasteland. Perhaps Japan doesn’t exist anywhere. With every step I take, the wasteland walks together with me. Japan just flees further away … For an instant, Kyūzō dreamt a sparklike dream. He dreamt of Baharin when he was very little. His mother was doing laundry behind a high wall. Crouching at her side, he played with the bubbles from the washbasin, popping them with his fingers one after another. No matter how many bubbles he popped, the infinite sky and sun whirled around in radiant gold. From over the wall, another Kyūzō, this one exhausted, peeped timidly in at the sight of them. He was utterly unable to cross over. Why must I spend my whole life wandering outside the wall? Outside the wall people are lonely, forced to bare their teeth like apes in order to live. They can only live like beasts, just as Baldy said. “Ha ha ha,” Kō inanely burst out laughing, like an idiot … Right, perhaps I took the wrong road from the very beginning. “It’s war! Ha-ha! War! Ha! I’m the chief president. Ha!” From the time I first set out, surely I began walking in the opposite direction. It’s probably because of that that I keep getting lost in
the wasteland …
Suddenly, however, Kyūzō made a fist, raised it, and began striking the oxide-red iron plate. He became a beast, roaring as the skin of his hand peeled and blood oozed out, and yet pounding with all his strength.
WEATHERHEAD BOOKS ON ASIA
WEATHERHEAD EAST ASIAN INSTITUTE, COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY
Literature
DAVID DER-WEI WANG, EDITOR
Ye Zhaoyan, Nanjing 1937: A Love Story, translated by Michael Berry (2003)
Oda Makato, The Breaking Jewel, translated by Donald Keene (2003)
Han Shaogong, A Dictionary of Maqiao, translated by Julia Lovell (2003)
Takahashi Takako, Lonely Woman, translated by Maryellen Toman Mori (2004)
Chen Ran, A Private Life, translated by John Howard-Gibbon (2004)
Eileen Chang, Written on Water, translated by Andrew F. Jones (2004)
Writing Women in Modern China: The Revolutionary Years, 1936–1976, edited by Amy D. Dooling (2005)
Han Bangqing, The Sing-song Girls of Shanghai, first translated by Eileen Chang, revised and edited by Eva Hung (2005)
Loud Sparrows: Contemporary Chinese Short-Shorts, translated and edited by Aili Mu, Julie Chiu, and Howard Goldblatt (2006)
Hiratsuka Raichō, In the Beginning, Woman Was the Sun, translated by Teruko Craig (2006)
Zhu Wen, I Love Dollars and Other Stories of China, translated by Julia Lovell (2007)
Kim Sowŏl, Azaleas: A Book of Poems, translated by David McCann (2007)
Wang Anyi, The Song of Everlasting Sorrow: A Novel of Shanghai, translated by Michael Berry with Susan Chan Egan (2008)
Ch’oe Yun, There a Petal Silently Falls: Three Stories by Ch’oe Yun, translated by Bruce and Ju-Chan Fulton (2008)
Inoue Yasushi, The Blue Wolf: A Novel of the Life of Chinggis Khan, translated by Joshua A. Fogel (2009)
Anonymous, Courtesans and Opium: Romantic Illusions of the Fool of Yangzhou, translated by Patrick Hanan (2009)
Cao Naiqian, There’s Nothing I Can Do When I Think of You Late at Night, translated by John Balcom (2009)
Park Wan-suh, Who Ate Up All the Shinga? An Autobiographical Novel, translated by Yu Young-nan and Stephen J. Epstein (2009)
Yi T’aejun, Eastern Sentiments, translated by Janet Poole (2009)
Hwang Sunwŏn, Lost Souls: Stories, translated by Bruce and Ju-Chan Fulton (2009)
Kim Sŏk-pŏm, The Curious Tale of Mandogi’s Ghost, translated by Cindi Textor (2010)
The Columbia Anthology of Modern Chinese Drama, edited by Xiaomei Chen (2011)
Qian Zhongshu, Humans, Beasts, and Ghosts: Stories and Essays, edited by Christopher G. Rea, translated by Dennis T. Hu, Nathan K. Mao, Yiran Mao, Christopher G. Rea, and Philip F. Williams (2011)
Dung Kai-cheung, Atlas: The Archaeology of an Imaginary City, translated by Dung Kai-cheung, Anders Hansson, and Bonnie S. McDougall (2012)
O Chŏnghŭi, River of Fire and Other Stories, translated by Bruce Fulton and Ju-Chan Fulton (2012)
Endō Shūsaku, Kiku’s Prayer: A Novel, translated by Van Gessel (2013)
Li Rui, Trees Without Wind: A Novel, translated by John Balcom (2013)
Zhu Wen, The Matchmaker, the Apprentice, and the Football Fan: More Stories of China, translated by Julia Lovell (2013)
The Columbia Anthology of Modern Chinese Drama, Abridged Edition, edited by Xiaomei Chen (2013)
Natsume Sōseki, Light and Dark, translated by John Nathan (2013)
Seirai Yūichi, Ground Zero, Nagasaki: Stories, translated by Paul Warham (2015)
Hideo Furukawa, Horses, Horses, in the End the Light Remains Pure: A Tale That Begins with Fukushima (2016)
History, Society, and Culture
CAROL GLUCK, EDITOR
Takeuchi Yoshimi, What Is Modernity? Writings of Takeuchi Yoshimi, edited and translated, with an introduction, by Richard F. Calichman (2005)
Contemporary Japanese Thought, edited and translated by Richard F. Calichman (2005)
Overcoming Modernity, edited and translated by Richard F. Calichman (2008)
Natsume Sōseki, Theory of Literature and Other Critical Writings, edited and translated by Michael Bourdaghs, Atsuko Ueda, and Joseph A. Murphy (2009)
Kojin Karatani, History and Repetition, edited by Seiji M. Lippit (2012)
The Birth of Chinese Feminism: Essential Texts in Transnational Theory, edited by Lydia H. Liu, Rebecca E. Karl, and Dorothy Ko (2013)
Yoshiaki Yoshimi, Grassroots Fascism: The War Experience of the Japanese People, translated by Ethan Mark